


Clean

by AmyJ10



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, F/M, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 01:52:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18539890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyJ10/pseuds/AmyJ10
Summary: He stands, fully naked in all his glory under the spray of the water. His eyes are closed as he runs his hands through his hair trying to rid it of the grime and dirt. He turns and rubs his eyes clear of the soapy water, when he opens them he sees her instantly.





	Clean

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [London88](https://archiveofourown.org/users/London88/pseuds/London88) in the [FandomRevival](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/FandomRevival) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
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> Post bad mission sex
> 
> This scenario has been in my brain for a really, really long time and I'm not going to lie, this story has kicked my ass. 
> 
> Again it's them when they are all dark and twisty, because that's when they're the best! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this, I would love to hear what you think.

“Major Carter.” 

She stirs from her thoughts as she hears her name. Slowly she exhales and opens her eyes. Laia, a woman from the village stands in front of her covered in grime, mud and blood. The woman holds a towel in her arms, offering it to Sam and speaks softly. Sam wonders for a moment if the woman is in shock, she then wonders if she might be too. 

“Colonel O’Neill has nearly finished with my husband, I thought you might like to wash before he gets back?” She says, her tone is soft and kind. Her husband, Gerrad, is the ruler of the village, he and Colonel O’Neill agreed to a debrief once it was safe to do so. “I’m sorry that we can only spare one room-“

“Uh, no, it’s fine. Thank you.” She clears her throat and accepts the towel. She and Colonel O’Neill are the least injured of those from the SGC and Gerrad had requested that two members stay on their planet until the morning so that they could be there for the mass burial service. Hammond approved it, both he and Colonel O’Neill seemed reluctant, but both agreed that it was the least that they could do. Hammond still held out hope for some kind of trade deal. Although he accepted that it may take much longer than he had first hoped after what had unfolded today. 

Colonel O’Neill had suggested that there was little point going back to the SGC for a few hours, not when they would only have to gate back in a few hours. Gerrad offered them a place to stay for the evening. 

“Are you well?” Laia asks, staring at the woman from Earth, she is pale, and her hands shake. “Should I get the doctor?” 

“I’m fine.” Just as Laia is, Sam is covered in blood and mud, reminders of the horror that they have experienced. 

“It will take us a long time to come to terms with what has happened today.” Laia sits on the bed next to Sam, leaving the spare bed untouched. “My husband believes that more than half of our people were killed today, many remain on your planet in your-“she trails off and looks to Sam.

“Infirmary,” Sam offers. 

SG1 had strolled on the planet completely unaware that they were just hours away from one of the most destructive Goa’uld attacks they had ever seen. Mayan had been vicious, instructing his Jaffa to kill every single person on the planet whilst he searched for SG1. She remembers the internal turmoil they’d faced as they hid, listening to the cries of the innocent villagers as they were murdered. 

“I have never seen anything like what happened today before…” Laia trails off, tears fill her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she wipes her eyes. Sam gently places her hand over Laia’s, unable to speak. Sam has only just arrived in their room, having spent an hour trying to assist medical staff to move the bodies of the dead. She smells of death and decay. 

She closes her eyes and is instantly brought back to the scene of such aguish, the sound of hysterical screaming and the smell of flesh burning. She jerks back to reality, inhaling a shaky breath. She doesn’t know if she has ever seen such death and destruction in all her years of service. 

“You were very brave,” Laia whispers. “Colonel O’Neill will see that soon.”

Sam doesn’t know if he will have calmed down by the time get gets back. He was so angry that he could barely speak to her, he’d even tried to suggest that she return to the SGC and he should stay alone. Hammond had shot down that idea right away.

During the invasion Jonas had argued, several times, that SG1 should out themselves to save the innocent people being slaughtered but Colonel O’Neill had argued that their surrender would only add four more bodies to the count. 

Colonel O’Neill had taken Teal’c to try to find anything that could be used as a weapon, asking Sam and Jonas to stay where they were and to keep hiding. They’d been gone for twenty minutes when Sam snapped. Mayan was in the middle of executing a family of five when she turned to Jonas and apologised before moving towards the sadistic bastard. She couldn’t watch him kill one more person. 

These people were only targeted because Mayan, a lower level Goa’uld was trying to make a name for himself who believed he could do that by capturing SG1. She still doesn’t understand how he knew that SG1 would be there, but it doesn’t really matter, not right now. 

By the time SG3, 4 & 5 had arrived nearly half the planet was dead, and Sam was on her knees with a staff weapon aimed at her head. The SG teams had fought together, only just managing to defeat Mayan and his Jaffa. 

Sam feels her stomach drop as he appears in the doorway; he doesn’t meet her stare and she knows that his anger hasn’t subsided. Laia thanks the both for everything they have done for her people before she leaves them alone. 

Jack steps into the room, unsure of what he wants to say to her, if anything. She had disobeyed a direct order today. He had returned with Teal’c to find her out of reach, on her knees and seconds away from being shot in the head by a Goa’uld. He hasn’t had the chance to speak to her since. 

As soon as the other SG teams arrived and the gun fight had started and Mayan had been distracted, he ran towards her, grabbing her and ripping her up off the ground. They both fought Mayan and his Jaffa side by side and then, when they were all dead, he had turned to her. She had stared at him, about to explain herself when he held his hand up. 

“You ever pull anything like that again and I’ll have you removed from this team.”

Now, he walks further into the room, surveying their surroundings. They have a bed each and the room has an adjoining bathroom. 

“Is everything ready for tomorrow?” Sam asks, quietly. For the first time in six years she is scared of him, of his reaction to her. She knows why he is angry; she risked the safety of the team and she disobeyed a direct order. She wants to tell him that she didn’t mean to do either of those things but that she just couldn’t stand by and watch while innocent people were slaughtered. 

There is one face that she just can’t shake from her mind, a grieving mother wailing as she cradled the body of her dead child. The boy couldn’t have been older than six.

He takes a deep breath and stands across from her. “Everything is set up, should be over early and then we go home.” He still refuses to meet her stare and his fists are clenched. Today has been a day from hell and on top of everything that has happened she almost died. She was seconds away from being shot in the head, seconds. 

He wants to believe that his anger is at her disobeying orders, but he knows that he’s lying to himself. His anger is based around the fact that he almost lost her, the fact that she put herself in harms way and he had almost had to watch it all unfold. He constantly promises himself that he’s got a hold of his feelings for her but it’s times like this that remind him that he doesn’t, that maybe he won’t ever. 

“Colonel-“

“I don’t want to hear it Carter,” he snaps, the anger and fear building in his stomach. What would his life be like without her in it? How could he ever survive? “You disobeyed an order-“

“Sir, I was-“

“I don’t want to hear it!” He wishes that he could tell her, that he could share just how scared he’d been when he saw her out there. But he can’t, so instead he shouts at her. “You put your team in danger, you put Earth is danger!”

“We’re supposed to save people,” Sam mumbles, unable to stop thinking about the village woman and her child. It was only when the Jaffa nearest to her slit her throat that she stopped screaming for the child in her arms. She stares blankly ahead, unable to make eye contact with her CO. 

“We didn’t have a choice!” Jack clenches his fists. Does she have any idea what she had almost done? To herself? To the team? To him? 

He has never, ever spoken to her like this before, but he has also never been so scared before. He has accepted that he can’t always keep her safe, that something might happen to her that he can’t control, that thought alone terrifies him but for it to be her choice, for her to hand herself to the bastard on a silver platter. He can’t accept that. 

Sam is still, unable to respond. She wants to tell him that she had only disobeyed orders out of desperation, that she thought she was going to lose it if she heard one more scream. She hadn’t thought about what might happen to her, she just wanted the death of innocent people to stop. But she doesn’t tell him any of this as he stands before her, seething. It doesn’t matter. 

“We just lost Daniel.” As he speaks, he watches her shoulders slump. He knows she misses Daniel just as much as he does. “I can’t lose you too,” he surprises them both with his honesty, but he is a man who has already lost too much. As soon as the words are uttered he is gone, moving into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. 

** 

He rests his palms on the sink as he swallows deep breaths, taking a few moments to try to compose himself. He can’t stop thinking about her on her knees, her eyes pressed tightly shut as the staff weapon jabs the back of her skull. If SG3, 4 and 5 had been any later she would have died. He would have watched her die. He shakes the image from his head and pushes himself away from the sink so that he can lean into the tub and run the shower. He reaches for his BDU jacket and begins to strip.

**

Sam sits, frozen in place as a tear slides down her cheek. She is so tired, tired of losing good people to this God forsaken war; she is tired of the heavy weight of grief that she can never seem to escape. 

Daniel died less than six months ago, they’ve barely had time to recover from his loss and she feels it every day. She wishes that he was here. She knows that he would have done the same as her, that he wouldn’t have been able to sit and do nothing. She hadn’t thought about the consequences she hadn’t thought about what might happen to her or her team. All she could think about was how fucking horrendous it was to watch body after body hit the floor. 

Something has shifted since they lost Daniel. Duty and orders feel that little bit harder to follow now that her team has been torn apart by death. She thinks back to his death, to her quiet words as he lay before her. She had questioned why people wait to show people how they really feel. Since those words left her mouth, she has found it harder and harder to walk the line that the military has set for her and her CO.

Today she had very nearly died, and just weeks ago she thought she had lost him forever after Maybourne’s colossal mistake. 

She’s so tired.

She moves to wipe her falling tears but stops, staring at her hands. She is still covered in blood and mud and God knows what else. She feels a wave of nausea building in the of her stomach as she thinks abut those who died, the bodies that she helped to carry. She had made sure that she carried the mother, who she knows will haunt her dreams, and her child to their final resting place.

She moves slowly, in an almost trance like state to the bathroom, pushing open the door. She needs to wipe the blood from her hands, she needs to be clean. 

He stands in all his glory, fully naked under the spray of the water. His eyes are closed as he runs his hands through his hair trying to rid it of the grime and dirt. He turns and rubs his eyes clear of the soapy water and when opens them he sees her instantly. 

She doesn’t know what the hell she is doing in there, watching him like this and she doesn’t know how she expects him to react. She doesn't move. She just stares at him as her heart pounds against her chest, and he stares back.

He stares at her; she looks completely defeated. He suddenly struggles to fight the urge to to touch her, to hold her. Everything feels so heavy and, after six years of ignoring whatever this thing is, he breaks. “C’mere,” he whispers, reaching out to her. She goes to him without hesitation. It takes seconds before her hand is in his and he’s leading her her into the makeshift tub.

She climbs in, clothes and all, releasing a shaky breath as he pulls her under the spray, the water hits and her clothes immediately stick to her skin. She stands there for a moment allowing the water to soak her, to begin to warm her cold body. 

It’s him who breaks the stillness, slowly reaching to wipe away a stray tear with a shaking hand. 

She closes her eyes. She just needs to feel something, anything. Him. Her fingers graze his jawline, capturing the drops of water that slide along his chiselled jaw. She watches as he swallows and reaches for her jacket, carefully stripping it from her shoulders before throwing it to the floor. 

He says nothing as he reaches for the edge of her soaking shirt but notes her sharp inhale when his fingers skim her bare stomach as he pulls it up and off her. He reaches her for belt with unsteady hands and in moments she is stood before him in just her underwear, gasping as the spray hits her bare skin. 

He slowly and carefully strips her of her underwear before reaching for the sponge and her begins to wash the dried blood from her skin. He washes her neck, her arms and her hands, wanting to get rid of the evidence of the hell that they have just experienced. He pauses for a second as a reminder of how close he came to losing her hits him, panic builds in the pit of his stomach and he reaches for her. His hands graze her arms and she shudders. 

With every second he is becoming more and more aware of her, of what they are doing and as he finishes washing her, he’s finding it hard to control his breathing. His heart is racing, and he’s breathing like he’s just run a marathon. 

Sam lifts her hand to touch him and her fingers curl against the back of his neck as his hand reaches around her waist and he pulls her closer until her chest is flush against his and his erection grazes her thigh. 

“Carter,” he whispers, staring into her eyes as they both inhale and exhale heavy, shaky breaths. Her free hand traces his cheek and her breath catches in her throat as he leans in and places his lips against hers.

The first touch is gentle, testing. Honour and duty are a mere memory as the water cascades over them and he is suddenly everywhere. His hands slide along her skin, down her back, across her ribs and underneath her breasts. He kisses her like she has never been kissed before and it takes her just seconds before she is anything but stunned and able to match his kisses with her own.

She breaks the silence, gasping as his hand grasps her breast and his lips find her throat. He rolls her nipple between two fingers and his length twitches against her thigh as she makes a sound he has only dreamt about. 

She trails her fingers through his hair as his lips find hers once more and he kisses her so hard she feels like she may choke. He moves against her then, pressing against her until she is surrounded by the hard expanse of his body and the wall behind her. 

His hand hooks around her thigh, raising it until it’s resting on his hip. He drags his lips from hers and presses his forehead against hers before pulling away to meet her wide-eyed stare. Her hands travel from his neck to his shoulders as he reaches between them and she briefly feels the brush of his fingers between her legs. He steps impossibly closer and swallows a groan as the tip of his erection nudges against her heat. His fingers dig into her thigh as she gasps at the contact.

He slowly slides into her, she is warm and tight around him. He stills as she releases a shaky breath and her nails bite into his upper arms. Their breathing is heavy, the realisation of what they are doing is sinking in as she adjusts to the feel of him inside of her. He is patient but she can feel his fingers shaking. After a few moments she slides a hand to the back of his head and pulls him towards her until his lips find hers again. 

His tongue slides against hers as her hands roam across his back and backside, her nipples graze his chest and it feels like her nerves are on fire. She releases a short, soft moan into his mouth as he begins to move within her, and his free hand grasps her neck and jaw. He pulls out of her almost fully and pushes back in, groaning against her lips as her finger nails scrape across the back of his neck. 

“Ahh,” she whimpers as her moves within her. She has never felt like this before, she’s struggling to regulate her breathing as she begins to drown in him, his smell, his touch, his taste. She wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer as pushes into her again and again.

When she moans his name, “Jack,” he loses all restraint and his hands suddenly curl around her thighs and lift, and she finds her back pressed hard against the wall, her legs wrapped around his hips. A deep growl is ripped from his lips as she slides down on to him, this new position allowing him to penetrate even deeper. 

His thrusts are short and sharp, their position and his footing making it difficult for anything else and she meets each one with her own. She pulls at his back, like she wants him closer, even though she doesn’t think it’s physically possible. He presses harder and groans against her skin as he begins to lose his composure.

She can feel that first warning flutter that she's about to come, and then it tugs at her again. She sinks her teeth into his shoulder and a long, high pitched moan escapes her lips, muffled by his skin as she tightens around him and she comes, hard. 

His grunts as her muscles contract around him and his thrusts becoming more erratic as his own pleasure builds. Suddenly, he pushes down on her hips while thrusting up into her, and he freezes there, releasing a long groan as he comes inside of her. 

**

Hours later he lies awake as she sleeps against him, naked and warm. They have spent hours seeking some form of relief from the horrors of today and the years of painful longing for moments just like this. 

He’d held her stare as he pushed into her over and over again and she writhed underneath him, and although it wasn’t as frantic as their first time it was still overwhelming, their hands still shaking. He’d taken his time, touching her, tasting every inch of her. Later he’d gripped her hips as she moved on top of him, looking freer than he had ever seen her. 

She curls further into him and he tightens his arms around her, pressing a kiss into her hair. He knows that he should feel guilty, and perhaps in a few hours, when the sun rises, he will.


End file.
